


you are my angel baby, with wings of gold

by titaniaeli



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Body Dysphoria, Discrimination, F/M, Gen, Harm to Children, Inspired by Maximum Ride, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Protective Siblings, Rewrite, Wing Mutilation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniaeli/pseuds/titaniaeli
Summary: Nobody knows how the Winged People came to be, but only certain humans manifested the special genes. The Hawthornes was one of the rare families who birthed a Winged child every generation. As a child, Gale had to incise his wings to protect himself from the Capitol. When his sister started to manifest wings years later, he swore that he would do anything to protect her.
Relationships: Gale Hawthorne & Posy Hawthorne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

_The existence of Winged People in Panem was a taboo. Nobody knows how this species came to be, but they have existed since the beginning of time. They have appeared in history books spanning centuries back, and they were classified as a subspecies below homo sapiens._

_But one ordinary man, who, as a child had watched the Winged People with envy and wonder, would one day grow up to become the future dictator of Panem, had known differently. Before he even started manipulating power and killing his allies, he knew that these Winged People have the strength to take control._

_They were stronger and faster than normal humans, with wings reflecting the avian genes in their genetic makeup. They possessed the ability to overthrow him in his quest for power._

_So, as President, his first act was to wipe out the existence of the Winged People. He hunted them to near extinction, relentless in his mission to consolidate his position._

_The mere thought of any child manifesting the Winged gene was met with despair and terror. Most who were discovered were immediately brought to the Capitol to be executed. There was no mercy even for a child. Those caught harbouring a Winged was severely punished._

_People named the era the Cold Days, a long period of seventy-five years after the First Rebellion, where the twelve Districts simmered in despair and fear under the tyrannical Capitol. But not everyone was content to remain silent on the oppression. District 13 remained alive, slowly rebuilding themselves after their destruction, burning with quiet rebellion and waiting for the right time to raise._

_One day, both humans and Winged People would work together again, just as they had once done before the Dark Days._

— Vick H. _A Historical Account on the Winged People during the Cold Days_

* * *

There was nothing ten-year-old Gale Hawthorne loved more than his wings. They were four feet long when spread open, smoky blue and gunmetal grey with slate black tips. They were strong and beautiful, and they have finally grown big enough to support his weight, not that he could try them out.

His wings first manifested when he turned four, little stumps on his back that moulted feathers every week. After his wings started to grow and take shape, his parents have bounded his wings with a specially-made binder. 

He hated that binder. It chaffed at his flesh and ripped out his blood feathers, but he was an obedient son. He never takes them off unless his parents said it was alright to. 

Every month, a strange man who his parents called Doctor Plover visited their home to do a body check up on him, inspecting the condition of his wings. 

His mother said that he was an expert on Winged, although Gale has never seen the doctor around before. But then again, Gale was only ten and he was never allowed to go anywhere without one of his parents supervising him. 

Doctor Plover was an Unwinged, his father said. An Unwinged was something his parents called a normal human, but he spent his entire life treating the Winged that he was practically an expert on them. 

Doctor Plover was old. Gale wasn't sure how old he was, since he has so many wrinkles, but other than his parents, he liked Doctor Plover. The man has kind eyes, and the instructions he gave on preening his wings were informative and simple to understand for a ten-year-old child. 

He was nearly eleven when he snuck out into the woods, evading his mother’s watchful eyes. It was a hard winter the previous year, and his parents have been working full time recently to make ends meet and stock up for the upcoming one this year.

He shucked off the binder, releasing a breath of relief as it unwound around his chest. He could still feel the soreness in the bones of his wings, and he spread them out to its full length. His tensed muscles groaned at the stretch, and it felt like he’s finally scratching an itch he couldn’t reach for so long.

He glanced around nervously, his ears twitching. Even for a Winged, his hearing has always been naturally sensitive. He has ventured quite far out into the woods, stopping under a canopy. If anyone gets too near, he will be able to pick up their approach.

He flapped his wings experimentally, warming up the muscles. Tucking in his elbows, he looked up with a deep breath. Excitement thrummed in his bones; his entire body almost vibrating as he waited to take off into the air.

With a mighty flap, the wings lifted him. For a second, he felt himself wobble, unused to the sensation, and then raptor instincts took over. He shot through the canopy, his wings brushing against the branches.

The wind rushed past his face, and the excitement in his chest bloomed until it felt like it was going to consume him whole. He has the sky in his palms, and he could touch the clouds if he desired to.

He let out a whoop of exhilaration, pure and unadulterated elation rushing through his veins. The wind drowned out his voice, and he closed his eyes briefly to focus all his other senses. Behind the wind, he could hear the sound of fauna in the woods, and beyond that, civilization. His raptor instincts took him further from the sound of humans.

_So, this was what flying feels like! What utter, complete joy!_

He had to stop on a tree, his lips stretched into a wide grin, and then he flew off again. He swooped down as he glimpsed movement under the shine of the sunlight, snatching the squirrel from its perch.

Laughing, he gently placed the struggling animal down on the ground, watching it scampered off in fright. He only felt a little bad for terrorizing the fauna, before the feverish triumph swept him away into the air once more.

He couldn’t tell how long he has been flying, only that he had to stop several times to catch his breath. The sky was turning orange when he took his last lunge into the air. He was so focused on the glow of fire streaking across the sky that he didn’t notice the object in his way until it clipped his left wing. It sent him spiralling downwards in shock, his barely grown wings still not strong enough to withstand the impact.

Fortunately, he was not flying too high when he fell, and the branches caught his descent as he fell into a shrub. He immediately started to flail, his wings getting caught in the tangles. With some difficulty and a beat of his wings, he tumbled out. He spat out leaves stuck in his mouth, and brushed twigs off his clothes. He barely felt the sting of cuts on his arms, but his left wing hurts. He tried to stifle the tears in his eyes, running his fingers through the plumage. The wing was still not large enough to curve over his shoulder, but he could still reach back and felt for the pained spot.

No broken bone, thankfully, but it felt sore. Hopefully just a bruise.

He tried to stand up, and that’s when he smelled smoke. Uneasily, he staggered towards the smell, until he came upon the smoking metal object on the ground.

He crouched down to study the object that he had collided into. It seemed to be some sort of gadget with four pairs of propellers. At first, he couldn’t recognize the gadget, but the propellers must be how it was able to fly.

Then he noticed the broken lens. He recoiled, just as the gadget choked out a small plume of black smoke and shocked out.

Without stopping to take a second glance, he ran off until the gadget was not in sight, before he soared to the sky again.

_A drone! A drone from the Capitol!_

He has heard of patrolling drones around District 12, although he has never seen any while he was in the woods with his father.

He didn’t stop to find his binder, tucking his wings under his shirt and jacket before he ducked under the fence. His back looked bulky without the binder pinning his wings down, but the sky was already dark and no one was around.

He crashed into his house, and nearly collided right into his mother.

“Gale!” She shouted, her eyes widening as he nearly collapsed onto the ground. “Tobias, he’s back!”

The adrenaline was starting to wither off, replaced by a mounting terror and panic.

“Where’s your binder, Gale?” Hazelle demanded, her face pale.

Tobias appeared at the doorway, his dark hair dishevelled.

“Where did you go, Gale?” His father asked urgently.

Not a child prone to emotional outbursts since he was a toddler, his parents were understandably even more alarmed when he started crying in response.

“I’m sorry, Pa.” He sobbed, stuttering his apologies.

“Did you go flying in the woods?” Tobias asked, his expression sinking with dread.

He nodded meekly, not daring to look at his parents’ faces. He missed their fearful exchange of looks over his head.

There was a sudden bang on their front door. Hazelle tensed up immediately, gathering her son in her arms. Tobias tried to reach for his hidden crossbow, but a voice rang out outside.

“Tobias? Tobias, are you in there?” A male voice hissed.

Hazelle’s grip on his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“What are you doing here, Aspen?” Tobias said sharply, glaring at the man standing outside.

Uncle Aspen, as Gale always called him, was their neighbour. His son, Thom, was the same age as Gale, and they occasionally played together.

“Is Gale here?” Aspen asked, ignoring Tobias’s question.

He hid behind his mother’s skirts, trying to hunch his shoulders, as if it would hide his wings.

“What’s going on?” Hazelle demanded.

Aspen glanced at her, noticed Gale hiding behind her and his face immediately whitened.

“Gods, so it’s true.” He growled. “Tobias, you need to Cut him now. The Peacekeepers are gathering at the Justice Building. There’s something going on.”

“What did the Mayor say?” Tobias frowned.

“Sae has a friend working in the Justice Building. She told me this: a Winged was caught on one of the drones in the woods.” Aspen said, glancing at Gale. “The drone was too badly damaged to retrieve the footage, but the Capitol _knows_.”

“We need time.” Hazelle said frantically. “And Doctor Plover—”

“Doctor Plover will need another hour before he can reach here.” Tobias interrupted. “And someone needs to go and fetch him here. We don’t have the time.”

“How long do you need?” Aspen said calmly.

“The whole incision will take at least an hour.” Tobias said shakily. “Doctor Plover taught me the procedure, but—”

“They can’t find him.” Hazelle interjected, her gaze grave and determined. “Tobias, you need to do the incision now.”

The three adults turned and stared at Gale, who sniffed and trembled.

“He’s too young.” Tobias said, heartbroken.

“He’s old enough.” Aspen said sombrely. “I will try to stall the Peacekeepers for as long as I could before they start the search.”

“We’re counting on you.” Hazelle nodded, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks.

The moment the door shut behind Aspen, she quickly bolted the locks, shoving a chair under the knob. She was relieved that her two younger sons were at a friend’s house at the moment. She had dropped off Rory and Vick at her friend’s house when she discovered Gale had slipped away under her nose. Oh, if only she had been more attentive!

“What’s going on?” Gale asked in fear.

“I’m so sorry, son.” Tobias whispered, carrying him towards the kitchen. “We have to Cut your wings now.”

“No!” He shrieked, shaking his head fiercely. “No, you can’t do that!”

His protests and pleas went unheard, and as he was gently placed on the kitchen table, he was sobbing hard enough to shake his entire body.

“Get me the kit, Hazelle.” Tobias ordered. When he turned to look at his son, his eyes were soft and full of regret. “I’m really, really sorry, Gale. I have to protect you. If they find you, they will take you to the Capitol and execute you. I can’t let that happen.” He stroked the crying boy’s hair, steeling his heart for the task ahead. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Gale.”

Hazelle came back, laying out the kit on the table and coaxing Gale to eat the crushed willow bark and passionflower paste.

“We don’t have morphlings.” Hazelle swallowed anxiously. Morphlings were expensive, and only the Mayor’s family was rich enough to possess them. And they hadn’t expected the Cutting to be this soon. “It’s going to hurt a lot for Gale.”

They both froze as shouting drifted into the house. After several seconds, the noises seemed to be increasing, but fading into the distance. They do not know what Aspen had done to buy time, but they weren’t going to waste it.

“I’m sorry, Gale.” Hazelle whispered, kissing her son’s forehead. Her eyes welled up with tears as they prepared for the incision. She could only hope that Gale would forgive them once it’s over.


	2. Chapter 2

**8 years later**

Gale does not like this.

But what he likes or does not like has to be shoved to the backseat at the moment, as Thom engaged in a loud and unnecessary haggling with Greasy Sae over his head, adding to the already painful migraine that had plagued him since last night.

Being a Wingless doesn’t means the rest of his senses have vanished. His eyesight has always been too sharp, his hearing too sensitive, he always has the urge to nest during winters and he has the tendency to look for the highest spot in the area. He could stay still for several minutes without blinking, which was helpful when he was hunting beyond the fence but definitely not normal around other humans.

It was a good thing that Katniss could be a little dense and oblivious. He has been her first and only best friend since childhood, and she probably thought his behaviour a stunning example of how a normal human acted.

It was harder to pretend around Thom and Bristel, as he considered them good friends as well. He was not as standoffish as Katniss _(he was less likely to open up though),_ and the two of them had been determined to knock down his walls since day one.

The fact he met them at the most vulnerable period of his life was probably part of the reason why they became his friends.

Still, they never asked too many questions about him and took his weird quirks in stride. Sometimes he doesn’t understand why they bothered sticking around him.

He felt a pang of guilt when he realized none of his friends knew a thing about him. Oh, they knew he hated the Capitol, but they didn’t know _why_.

He pulled himself out of his dark thoughts before his mood could spiral further, just as Thom apparently finished arguing with Greasy Sae and tugged him away from her stall.

The rest of the stalls were hurriedly packing up, rushing out of the Hob.

Gale felt himself scowled at the sight. They never used to do that before with Head Peacekeeper Cray.

The man was a perverse bastard, but he was more than happy to turn a blind eye as long as he could take advantage of District 12’s vices. Moonshine was plenty easy to brew and profitable amongst the Peacekeepers. Girls knocked on Cray’s door every night, just for a chance to earn money for their families. _Girls as young as Katniss_ , he thought in disgust and fury. Sometimes when he traded with Cray, he contemplated clawing the bastard’s eyes out.

He wasn’t that upset to hear that the old bastard was dismissed as Head Peacekeeper. Not that the new one was any better.

Ever since the arrival of Romulus Thread and his batch of new Peacekeepers in District 12, the fence has been repaired and electrified, making trips into the woods impossible now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Thom waved him off.

Gale watched him go with a sense of foreboding. He let out a frustrated groan, making his way back home with his goods clutched under one arm.

He really does not like this. Rory called it his sixth sense. Vick called it his danger sense.

They both meant the same.

But Gale’s life was full of danger; it really does not help if his extra sense does not pinpoint the cause of his unease. He did pick up his pace though; the last thing he needed was for Thread and his Peacekeepers catching him near the Hob. 

Some of the old Peacekeepers might be friendly with the locals, but it’s hard to tell how they would react now with a new leader. People tended to be sheep in an institution.

“I’m home.” He declared, taking care not to slam the door behind him. He only just fixed the door last week.

“Welcome home.” Vick said solemnly, not looking up from his book.

“How’s work?” Rory asked.

He shrugged tiredly, dropping his bag onto the table. Rory gave him a sympathizing look; he still has six years to go before he enters the mines, six years till his younger brother would be sentenced to the same life that had murdered their father.

“How’s Posy?” He asked, fighting a yawn. His nose wrinkled when he noticed his sooty hands. He was exhausted, dirty and hungry.

“Still coughing.” Vick answered. “But her fever subsides this morning.”

He felt the tightness in his breast eased a little. As the eldest, he tried not to play favourites, but as the only girl in the family it was no surprise that everyone loved Posy best.

Gale loved all his siblings, but he was always a little more protective of her.

“How’s my little bird?” He grinned, slipping into the room silently.

“Gale!” Posy shrieked, her expression brightening. She tried to get out of bed, impeded by the heavy blankets on top of her.

He recognized Vick’s patchworked blanket and Rory’s favourite pillow stuffed under her head and felt a deep, tremendous fondness for his younger brothers.

“Stay down, little bird.” He scolded lightly, pressing his lips against Posy’s forehead.

She giggled, curling up against his side when he settled down next to her.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked in concern. She still felt a little warm around the neck, but she was remarkably livelier than this morning.

“Itchy.” She said grumpily.

He laughed and opened his arms. Without hesitation, Posy scampered into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He felt a flutter against his arm, and he looked down with a clench in his chest.

The wings have started growing out two years ago, much faster for her than it had been for him. She had cried without stopping as little tufts of feathers fall, her back growing swollen and itchy from the growth.

Rory and Vick have been fascinated as they watched the wings grow from her back. Rory was too young to remember Gale’s wings, but not too old to forget his older brother do _not_ have wings. Vick was still a baby when his wings were incised, but he held onto the smoky blue feather Gale had gifted him at his birth.

“Do they still hurt?” He asked, running a finger over her wings. The pin feathers were still downy and soft, making her wings looked fluffy-looking. It was really adorable.

“Nope,” Posy shook her head, wide-eyed. “They just feel a little funny.”

It was still a little hard to identify the full colours of her wings, but Gale was pretty sure they were wings of an eagle. _Maybe a golden eagle_ , he mused, eyeing the pale red feathers.

He has no doubts that her wings would be bigger than his when she turned ten. By then, it would be difficult to hide them.

He ignored the sharp twist of anxiety at that thought, of anyone discovering her wings, of anyone _taking away_ her wings.

He won’t be able to bear it if they take his sister’s wings too.

It had been horrible for both Hazelle and Gale when they realised that Posy was also a Winged. 

Luckily, they were still small enough to hide under her clothes. She hated the binder and would throw a temper tantrum whenever she was forced into it.

Hazelle was even more obsessively protective with Posy. Her eldest son’s incision had traumatised her, and the last thing she needed was to go through the same thing with her only daughter. 

It had been painful and traumatising for everyone involved. Tobias Hawthorne had harboured the guilt for years till his death. Hazelle wept whenever she sees the scars on his back.

He spent months relearning how to walk without the extra weight on his back, feeling like his body no longer belonged to him. The loss of his wings almost broke him. He had his taste of the sky and lost it. 

He would never allow Posy to go through the same thing as he did. He’d rather die than have Posy losing her wings. 

Not for the first time he felt a bitter resentment and anger at the Capitol. At Coriolanus Snow.

He heard tales of what they do to the Winged in the Capitol. He heard they ripped the wings off before executing the Winged. He heard that not every Winged taken to the Capitol was executed.

Sometimes they take the ones with unique wings and make them playthings of the Capitol people.

He doesn’t know which make him sicker; to be murdered for being born, or live as a bird in the cage, to be gawked at like an animal in the zoo.

He doesn’t know if his life was safer for being a Wingless, but he knew that his fate was no less kind if he’s ever discovered.

He still remembered that day as if it just happened yesterday.

It hadn’t been a perfect incision. The surgery had been sloppily done, but Gale had survived. He hated his parents for a while, but he understood why they have to do it. It still hurts, though, a reminder of what was once there. Sometimes he couldn’t even bear to look into the mirror without wanting to break his reflection.

He spent the next few weeks bedridden, feverish from an infection. It had taken Doctor Plover days before he could even approach the Hawthornes, wary of the patrolling Peacekeepers.

The raid had not gone well; dozens of innocent people injured or dead because of his stupidity. Aspen had gathered a group of coal miners to delay the Peacekeepers, and the fervour had spread like wildfire across the district.

He doesn’t know what his parents have done with his wings. Burned them, perhaps. He’s just glad that he was already unconscious from the pain to know what they did with his wings. He never asked, nor did they tell him.

“I’ll protect you.” He whispered into her hair, hugging her close to him. “No one will take your wings from you. No matter what happens.”


	3. Chapter 3

He hasn’t talked to Katniss for days, not that it wasn’t gnawing at him or anything. The last time they were together ended in a fight that had both of them stomping away childishly.

Ever since Katniss came back, she started to push him away. Acted like the whole world was out to get her.

As far as he knows, she was avoiding Peeta as well, so he felt a little better.

He was still exhausted, dirty and hungry. And cold.

Being in the mines every day was facing his demons and forcing him to go on despite the fear and panic crushing him inside. Every second he spent in the tunnels felt eternal. He starts his shift everyday thinking he’s going to die every time he walked into the darkness.

He was meant for the sky, not buried underground with no way out.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but he was nothing more than a helpless chick in the mines. Without Thom, he might have already collapsed in a meltdown.

“I heard Thread is searching for something.” Bristel murmured.

He quietly accepted the water bottle from Thom, pretending not to pay attention to the coal miners gathered beside him. He was fighting not to choke on the water in his greed, ignoring Thom’s amused stare.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Leevy frowned. “Where did you hear that from?”

“Darius.” Bristel answered. At their sceptical looks, she insisted, “He’s a good guy. One of the good guys, honestly. He doesn’t know what exactly Thread is looking for, but apparently the bastard has been gathering up people.”

“People from where?” He asked, his lips curling. He wondered if Thread was bold enough to touch the townies. He _did_ hear about the Seam being searched, but so far, his family was safe.

“Everywhere.” Bristel whispered. “I heard Delly’s house being searched the other day.”

Thom cursed under his breath, looking furious.

The strange sense of wrongness intensified, nearly choking Gale with its ferocity. He tried to push aside that feeling but it held tight, claws digging stubbornly and screaming at him to sit up and pay attention.

Suddenly, he realized when it started. This odd anxiety that dogged him in his shadow, refusing to let him rest easy. It started the day Romulus Thread arrived in District 12.

He sipped from the water bottle to mask his rising fear, but must have failed terribly when he noticed Thom giving him a look.

“Are you alright?” Thom leaned over to whisper at him.

He took a few seconds to reply. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Nothing was going to happen. Everything was going to be fine.

He was just being paranoid.

* * *

He should have known better than to ignore his instincts.

They came in the early morning, barging into houses and dragging people out into the streets. He could see his neighbours being lined up like prisoners in front of a firing squad, and couldn’t help but thought it appropriate in a fit of morbid hysterics.

They might actually die in front of a firing squad once they discovered Posy’s wings.

He tried his best to hide her small, shivering form behind him, watching with growing fear and panic as the Peacekeepers started to strip everyone down.

Romulus Thread had been searching for something, alright. He was searching for the Winged people.

“Gale!” Posy cried out.

He reacted instinctively, punching the Peacekeeper who tried to grab his little sister. He wrapped his arms around Posy, holding her tight to his chest and refusing to let go, even as the Peacekeeper slammed the butt of his rifle across his head.

“What’s going on here?” Thread roared, approaching them.

Posy tried to squirm out of his grip, reaching up to pat at his bleeding head in worry. Dazed from the blow, Gale couldn’t stop her.

“He’s being uncooperative, sir.” The Peacekeeper stuttered.

Thread turned and stared at him, his eyes like chips of black ice. He fought a shiver, feeling like a pinned butterfly under that cold, unfeeling gaze. He could hear his heart thundering in his ears, and the small body in his embrace shaking like a leaf.

“What are you doing?” Thread said icily. “If he’s being uncooperative, then shoot him.”

He grabbed the gun at his hip and pointed straight at Gale. Three things happened simultaneously once the gun went off.

Hazelle’s scream shattered the thin veneer of tension. Rory managed to slam the back of his head into his captor’s forehead with a loud crack. Vick bit down onto the exposed skin between the hand and wrist of his guard.

While his entire family struggled to lunge towards him, it was only Gale’s raptor reflexes that managed to save him from a hole in his head as he threw himself aside.

He landed hard on his side, his body trembling from the pain. Blood leaked out between his fingers as he held his shoulder tightly. His right ear was ringing, drowning out the shouts and screams around him.

“Gale!” Posy sobbed, clinging onto his shirt even as Thread dragged her away.

The back of her dress was ripped open and her binder casted aside. There was a sudden hush of awe when her small wings fluttered weakly on her back.

“A Winged child.” Darius whispered in horrified wonder.

Thread levelled his gun at Posy’s head.

“No, stop!” Katniss yelled, pushing her way through. “Don’t shoot!”

Thread gestured for his Peacekeepers to hold her back.

“What are you doing?” Peeta snarled in outrage.

Gale breathed through the pain and tried to crawl towards his sister. He wasn’t relieved that Katniss came. He doubted she has the authority to stop Thread, but at least she distracted Thread long enough for him to return to Posy’s side.

“Strip her brothers.” Thread ordered.

Rory and Vick yelled and kicked as their shirts were torn open, their faces blotchy and red with anger. No one dared to interfere, and Gale hated everyone for it.

Darius hesitated in front of him, but at Thread’s glare, he kneeled down next to Gale and reached for his collar.

“I’m so sorry.” The redhead said softly.

He felt his world fall apart as his bare skin greeted the icy chill of the winter air. His scars throbbed with phantom pain. He couldn’t do anything but bit back a sob.

“What is that?” Purnia gasped.

“That,” Thread said, his lips curling in victory. “Is a Wingless. A Winged who had his wings incised.” His cold eyes never wavered from the two siblings. “That is no excuse. A Winged is still one even with his wings gone. The penalty for being a Winged is death. The penalty for an unauthorized incision is death. We’re taking the two Winged to the Capitol.”

“Please, let them go!” Hazelle begged. “They’re innocent. Take me instead! Take me!”

Rory ripped his arm out of their hands, trying to reach for his older brother and younger sister. He has a fierce snarl on his face, ready to fight anyone who want to hurt his family. His mother’s wild feral child. 

“Stop!” Katniss yelled. She punched someone in the face and ran towards the nearest sibling she could reach. She pulled Vick into her arms, glaring at anyone who tried to take him from her.

At that moment, Gale loved her so much for protecting his brothers.

“For harbouring two Winged, not handing them over to the Capitol and performing an unauthorised incision, you’ll be sentenced to death, Hazelle Hawthorne.” Thread said cruelly.

He doesn’t realize who was screaming until he was pinned to the ground, the second gunshot echoing in his skull. His injured shoulder burned in agony as his arms were wrenched back, not by Darius but by an unfamiliar Peacekeeper.

“Ma! Gale!” Posy shrieked, hissing furiously. Her wings ruffled, feathers standing, but she was still too small, too weak. Someone caught her around her waist, pinning her arms and wings down. She scratched and kicked until she finally went limp.

The crowd was finally roused, angered at the death of one of their own. They started to fight back, stirring up a fledging revolt. The old Peacekeepers looked like they weren’t sure if they wanted to stop them or join them. 

“Rory!” He shouted. “Monkshood! Get out! Get out!”

They all knew that this day would come. They have set up codes between the three of them, just in case a situation like this happened. If there ever came a day where neither Hazelle nor Gale was there to protect them, Rory would take over as the next oldest.

Monkshood means danger. It means a last resort. It means going to Katniss or Thom for help. It means leaving District 12.

He has already made the necessary arrangement when the fence was electrified. He had bargained, threatened, begged, and he had managed to get the tools required to dismantle an electrified fence. Of course, doing that would alert Thread. That’s why it’s a last resort. But hopefully, by the time that was discovered, Rory and Vick would be long gone.

Rory’s head whipped towards him, his teary eyes betraying his bravado. He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to run to his siblings.

He can’t let that happened.

He managed to pull himself free, turning abruptly to body tackle the Peacekeeper behind him. As if that was the trigger, the crowd rushed forward.

He didn’t see Rory and Vick slipped away silently during the chaos. He didn’t feel the needle sliding through his skin.

Gale might not have anticipated this, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t prepared. His priority has always been the safety of his family. Rory and Vick would be safe. He would keep Posy safe.

As the sleep drug churned through his bloodstream, and as his eyes slowly fell shut, the last thing he saw was his mother’s crumpled body, blood pooling around her dark hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Winged - Written in both singular and plural noun.   
> Wingless - A Winged who had their wings incised.   
> Unwinged - The normal population who are born without the avian genes.


End file.
